


A Vast Expanse

by Lake (beyond_belief)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Established Relationship, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his emails to Ray, Brad calls Nate's kids Big and Little. He knows their actual names, of course, but it makes him feel a little bit less like a guy who broke up another guy's marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Vast Expanse

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [A Vast Expanse｜廣袤之域](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4118224) by [Lake (beyond_belief)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake), [viviin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viviin/pseuds/viviin)



In his emails to Ray, Brad calls Nate's kids Big and Little. He knows their actual names, of course, but it makes him feel a little bit less like a guy who broke up another guy's marriage.

"I was already getting a divorce when we started seeing each other," Nate points out reasonably, like he always does whenever Brad brings it up.

Brad sighs, mostly for effect, and types _Took Big to the zoo this weekend. I guess it was fun._

_Suckerrrrrrrrrrr,_ is Ray's reply a few hours later. _and what, Little wasn't good enough for the zoo?_

Brad declines to answer that email in favor of mowing his lawn. He's got a house now, enough bedrooms that the girls each get their own when they're over, a fence so nobody wanders out into the street, and all the normal house-accessories like a washing machine and a dryer. 

"I don't miss going to the laundromat," he tells Nate, stuffing the blanket that Little spilled chocolate milk on over the weekend into the barrel of the washing machine. 

Nate hands him one of the detergent packets, looking unimpressed. "Does anyone?"

"Stupid fuckers, maybe." Brad shuts the lid, starts the machine, and corrals Nate against it. Nate smiles at him lazily and lets himself be pinned between the machine and Brad's body, sliding one arm around Brad's waist. He makes absolutely no attempt to move away. It's a thing that always surprises Brad, deep in the pit of his stomach. 

"You know my kids really like you, right?" Nate asks, above the sound of running water. Then he starts to laugh, and says, "You look surprised."

"I figured they only just tolerated my existence."

Nate gives him a look that says clearly, _I can't believe you still say that sort of shit_ , and tightens his grip on Brad's waist. 

Brad has narrowly avoided mortar fire that scared him less than Nate's daughters do on a regular basis. He knows Nate knows this and has, on occasion, used it against Brad. Such as getting both girls to take a nap at the same time and then saying he's going to the grocery store, leaving Brad wondering what he'll do if the girls wake up. (The answer is, of course: Finish filling the plastic pool in the backyard and let Big float in it while he helps Little chase butterflies. It's definitely not something he puts in his emails to Ray.)

Nate comes home while they're still in the yard, wanders outside with two popsicles in one hand and two beers in the other. He grins and shakes his head at the sight, as Brad lifts Little high up into the air.

"Seeing you with the girls makes me want to have more kids," he tells Brad later, rolling them over and pinning Brad against the mattress.

Brad raises an eyebrow - with effort, because he's not unaffected by Nate on top of him - and replies, "I'm not sure our biology works like that."

"Ohhhh, we could figure it out," Nate says, and kisses him. Brad smiles against his mouth, sliding his fingers through Nate's hair, not long by any means but enough for Brad to rub between his fingertips and enough to tickle his jaw as Nate kisses down his neck. 

Ten years ago in the desert, Nate read Brad his fortune. Brad missed it, though, and took a decade to figure himself out. He'd been in Virginia two months before even finding out that Nate was in the same city, taken another two weeks to coordinate meeting up at their closest Starbucks. 

Brad had to look twice when he walked in. Nate, at a table with a laptop bag by his feet, a suit jacket hanging from the back of his chair, and wearing a checkered button-down, raised his hand and waved, smiling all the while.

Nate, who Brad now knows wears suits and wingtips during the week, polos and boat shoes on the weekend. Sometimes Brad sees him out of the corner of his eye and doesn't recognize him as the man who commanded a platoon in Iraq. Sometimes Nate chases Little around the house, both of them screaming with laughter, while Brad watches and wonders where this Nate came from.

It's Nate who traps him, later, after the girls have been dropped off at their mom's. He plucks at the hem of Brad's t-shirt, says, "This weekend wasn't nearly long enough," and Brad has to agree. He's got a mostly 9-5 job now, teaching kids nearly half his age how to jump out of planes, a job that for once allows him to shape his life in terms of _week_ and _weekend_.

Nate lifts Brad's hand to his mouth, kisses his knuckles, his palm, the pulse in his wrist. Brad looks at him steadily but doesn't know what to say to the wide-open expression on Nate's face.  


Nate is older. Brad is older. After years spent running from anything that resembled being _settled_ , he's somehow got the whole shebang and he's constantly being surprised by it. 

"Hey," Nate whispers, teeth nipping at Brad's fingertip. "Where'd you go?"

Brad curls his fingers to cup Nate's jaw. "Sorry."

Nate favors him with a smile, sharp and knowing, and says, "You do that sometimes, you know? Disappear into your own head, look at me like you can't believe any of this is real, like you think you're going to wake up at any second and be someplace other than right here, with me." 

He presses his body a little harder against Brad's, the hand not still holding Brad's wrist gathers up a fistful of Brad's shirt at his waist and clenches it tight. "But you're not. You're not waking up anywhere except next to me. Tell me you know that."

"I know it." 

"Again."

Brad drops his hand to trace over the hollow of Nate's throat, pausing to feel the pulse beneath his touch. "I know it, Nate."

Nate smiles at him again, softer than before but no less possessive. Brad leans forward, catching Nate's mouth in a long kiss, feeling his heartbeat quicken as they shift to fit even closer together. The late afternoon sunlight streams through the windows of the living room where they stand; Brad can feel the warmth of it on Nate's skin. He isn't sure if he's ever loved anyone like this.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know.


End file.
